


Everything I Never Knew I Needed

by TempusNoKitsune



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, M/M, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Being Tony, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 13:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10992186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempusNoKitsune/pseuds/TempusNoKitsune
Summary: It had been a long time since Steve had had a family. It might sound strange, and possibly even unfair, but he wasn’t the only one. He was sitting in a room full of people who haven’t had a family in a long time. Phenomenal people that really deserved to be loved, but he’s expressed that before.





	1. Chapter 1

A loud, siren-like sound broke through his racing thoughts, and he turned to the small vibrating block on his desk. The screen was lit up with a large 10:35 front and center as it shifted slightly on the table from its own vibrations. He let out a sigh and picked up the small device, dismissing the alarm. Light blue eyes shifted back to the desk centered in the room, simply staring down at a blank page.

He should go back to his apartment, it wasn't like he was really needed in the office anyway. For him the room was really just for show, considering that he didn't actually do any work (file some reports maybe, but that didn’t have to be done in an office). 

The blaring white of his sketch book was silently making fun of him. It had been sitting there just waiting for him to mark it with graphite for the past 1, 2...3 hours maybe? He lost count two daydreams ago.

He'd been struggling with ideas, inspiration for a sketch. Not that such a thing wasn't completely unusual, considering he hadn't moved from the one spot for almost the whole day. Inspiration was made by sight, by movement, by life, so really it was more strange for him not to have moved at all. 

Steve rarely went to the office, and when he did he took constant breaks, even if they were just to take a short walk around the base. (He had never fancied office life, it made him feel trapped, claustrophobic.) Although, he supposed the term “breaks” was relative due to the lack of work being done in the first place. 

He used the office as a get away, which often worked for him considering the fact that most people wouldn’t be likely to go looking for him there. But since he hadn't been out, he was running low on ideas, which ultimately led to him zoning out and basically falling asleep at his desk.

Letting out a sigh he pushed away from the desk, closing up his sketchbook with one last lingering glance at the blank page before putting it up under his arm. The blonde nudged his chair back in place with his leg, and scanned the room to make sure that everything in his office was nice and neat before leaving the room.

Excessive and unnecessary, but maybe he was just a little OCD, so what? What was the problem with trying to be clean and organized? (A question which he insisted firmly was rhetorical.)

His shoes thumped hollowly against the “wood” floors as made his way out of the office building and over to the parking garage, scanning the spaces for a familiar shine. The bike near the sidewall of the building was standing proudly, sleek black shining even in the dimmed light. He popped up the seat, and in a practiced and easy motion, stored his sketchbook and swung his leg over the bike.  

Steve took a lot of pride in his motorcycle, having found it just left by the side of the road, worn down, and dusty, and had fallen in love with her. She was a World War II era designed bike, and it was painfully evident that the beautiful machine had been abandoned. So, he had loaded her up,  and done his best to fix her up (now, he wasn’t a mechanic, but he had had a bike in the 40’s which made him fairly proficient in the art of an old fashioned tune up- and no Tony I don’t want your help on this-). 

Despite the cost - and the months of work that it took - he never regretted picking up the bike for a single day. There was nothing like the feeling of flying down the road on a motorcycle, powerful, in control, and freeing because it was really as close as he was ever going to get to actually flying without the aid of a plane. 

Of course there were a few instances in which he made a jump out of a plane, something that many would consider a form of free flight, however it wasn't really the same. He wouldn't actually call jumping from a plane flying, it was more like falling. Which in hindsight it was the reality considering that quite a few of those times he didn't actually wear a parachute…

His lips were still turned up in a small smile as he made his way to park at Stark tower, which was now often affectionately referred to as Avengers tower due to the lack of the letters s t r and k. 

So, why would it always be Stark tower? The whole building was ridiculous, which should attribute to the name itself, but it was a huge building with copious amounts of technology littered everywhere. And most, well really, all of that technology had either been made, or tinkered with, by Stark himself.

He turned off his bike, and put down the kickstand, leg swinging over the side, and his foot fell to the concrete. He pulled up the seat once again, and took out his sketch book, taking away the keys, and closing her up as he made his way to the elevator. 

There were plenty of things that he wasn't the fond of in Stark tower, but the biggest things always had to do with the technology. First of all, -he stepped in the shiny elevator, and pressed his floor- he really didn't like the elevator. This thing was a metal death trap. Everyone knew that Tony Stark liked to get things done fast, that included moving from one floor to the next, which meant that even though Steve knew that it was coming he was still shaken as the elevator boosted him up to his floor at a speed that he was sure wasn't safe. Regulation is all relative to Anthony Stark.

As the doors opened he gave his head a small shake, steadying himself, and quickly moved out of the elevator out into a large living area.

"Hey Steve, you're back late."

His bright blue eyes shifted over to the couch, where Hawkeye was sprawled out, making a mess. The usual really. 

Popcorn fell all over the couch and floor as Clint continued to take large handfuls of the food and shove them in his mouth. Now, when Steve said into his mouth, he meant that about 20% of the popped kernels were actually making it to their destination while the others found their home everywhere else.

"Uh yeah...I just...got caught up..." He walked over to the kitchen, which was connected to the living room by a large bar area.

"With what? You hate the office."

"I don't hate it, I just have nothing to do there."

"So what were you doing?"

"Just...sketching." He opened the fridge door, and started to scan the shelves for some leftovers.

"Really? Can I see?"

"Um no."

"Aww come on, why not?"

"I don't ....I just..." Steve hated showing people his artwork. It felt somehow like a breech in his privacy.

"You don't ever let anyone look at them, are you drawing something you shouldn't be?" Clint's voice was teasing, but that didn't stop Steve from straightening up quickly, and looking over at the man.

"No!"

Clint held his hands up, palms out, quite obviously incredibly amused by the reaction. "Fine, fine. You just seem to be hiding something."

"I'm not." He walked back over to the fridge, and pulled out a couple of thin cardboard boxed. 

" 'Kay, well, could you share that Chinese with me?" Clint beamed at him. The kind of fake innocent look that meant he just didn’t want to get up to get his own food.

"Fine, yeah, but only a little, I'm starving."

"Yeah, we all know you're capable of eating a horse Stevie~"

Blue eyes shifted upwards, but the food found its way on a plate, and into the microwave. He looked back over to the couch where Clint was still lazing around, shoving popcorn into his mouth. "Where's everyone?"

Clint shrugged. "Tony's in his cave, Natasha's probably out killing someone, and Thor and Bruce went out on a pop tart run a little while ago and haven't come back."

"So you've just been here alone?"

"Yup."

Steve was about to make another comment when the microwave went off. He grabbed a beer, and a water out of the fridge, then settled on the couch next to Clint. 

He held out a small paper plate, flimsy enough that it had begun to fold in on itself, heated oils staining the white bottom.

"Oh goody, Chinese and beer, one of my favourites. Thanks for being such a sweetheart."

“Anything edible is your favourite…” He mumbled, unable to help the soft smile pulling at the edges of his lips. "Is this...Disney?"

"Yep."

"...Okay..." How times have changed...

Clint shoveled some Chinese into his mouth along with a handful of popcorn as a crudely done cartoon started up. "Ish reawwy enner'aining."

Steve raised an eyebrow, and watched about thirty seconds of the episode before moving back into the kitchen. He shot a glance at the clock, 11:45. With a small shake of his head he tucked into his food, cleaning off the plate fairly quickly. 

When he finished he took his plate to the sink and washed it by hand. Yes, they did have a dishwasher, but he found that hand washing the dishes guaranteed that they would be cleaner.

His eyes drifted back up to the clock. 11:52. The blonde hardly thought as he opened up the fridge once again, and got out some cheese, followed by bread and butter. Within about 5 minutes he had a golden brown grilled cheese on a bright red paper plate. He made his way down to the lab, and entered the “Captain America” personal code. Which actually opened the door much to his surprise. (Long story short, the lat time that he had used his code it had ended in a rather loud fight and a couple of broken windows, so really it would have made sense for Tony to rather permanently lock him out.)

"Tony?"

And there was no response but music, the heavy bass and screaming guitar that made up Tony’s signature, at least some things never change... The soles of his shoes brushed gently across the concrete as he made his way further into the lab until he spotted a tuft of black amongst a mix of metal. "JARVIS, could you turn the music off?"

There was a short reply of, "Yes Captain Rogers", before the music cut off.

"Hey JARVIS what was-" Tony had turned slightly as he continued to talk, stopping as Steve came in his line of view. "Oh, hey Cap. What brings you down to my humble abode?"

"I brought you dinner."

"That's real nice of you, but I have coffee and-" Of course that was his response, Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Real dinner Tony, it's a grilled cheese, so I know you like it."

Tony's eyebrows went up slightly, and his eyes shifted down to the plate that was held out to him, moving his goggles so they were on top of his head. "You made this?"

"Yes, I did."

"And you want me to eat it?"

"I didn't poison it Tony."

The billionaires mouth tilted up slightly. "Yeah, okay, sure you didn't. Put it on the desk. I don't do being handed things."

The blond moved forward slightly, and placed the small plate on the table top, then just stood there. His eyes scanned over the desk, looking at the papers, and wires strewn about the surface. Everything about the lab fascinated him. Electronics may not be his forte, but the lab was a mix of  so many different works of art, the most prominent very possibly being its creator.

"You can go now."

His eyes shifted back towards electrifying blue, now shooting him an expectant look.

"Yeah...right...okay..." He awkwardly stammered out, quickly turning on his heel and power walking out of the lab. 


	2. Chapter 2

Light streamed through the window, a small ray shining on the bright white linens of a queen sized bed. The sheets were tucked under the mattress, and pulled up over the pillows, made up nice and neat. The empty room was filled with the bright morning light, and the faint sound of running water. And in the next five seconds, an over energetic Norse god.

"Steven! The breakfast has arrived!"

"Alright, thank you for letting me know! I'll be right out!" Steve called out from the shower. 

He could practically hear Thor nod, and could have sworn that -with how hard he closed the door- the room shook, bathroom and all. Something that startled a little laugh out of him as he wrapped a fluffy, cream coloured towel around his waist. He gave his head a quick shake, flicking the water in all different directions, then went to get dressed.

He took his time, drifting down the long hallway towards the kitchen - which he would have found simply by the smell alone. He was dressed in a simple t-shirt that he had received from SHIELD a while back, the white hanging softly over a pair of low hanging sweatpants, which Clint insisted he wear around when he was just at the tower.A soft hum rumbled through his chest at the smell of cinnamon rolls, doughnuts, and the rather prominent tang of bacon.

A small smile came to his face as he rounded the last corner and saw all of his teammates sitting together and eating like a family. Well...almost everyone. Of course Anthony wouldn't be there…

He brushed of the slight twinge of disappointment that came with the lack of the sarcastic mechanic, and continued into the kitchen area, looking around at the buffet of sugary and salty breakfast foods.

There were already two empty doughnut boxes in the trash can, and it seemed like there may have been more than one plate of bacon when all of the food was first laid out, but that wasn't strange. Everyone who knew the team well enough knew that Thor, Clint, and Steve himself, could eat enough to feed a small country for weeks. There were a lot of takeout restaurants that were  _ very _ fond of them.

He piled up a plate with some assorted doughnuts, two cinnamon rolls, some eggs, a piece of toast, and a few strips of bacon, then made his way over to his seat. What could he say, he was a growing super soldier and not all nutrition needed to come from healthy foods.

Crulean eyes shifted around once more as teeth sunk into his almost sickeningly sweet breakfast bun. His mind wandered. At first the team had been...dysfunctional, to say the least, but now, they really were like a family (and yes, they had seats that they always sat at, they were that kind of family). When Thor was on Earth they were some of the only people that he knew, aside from Jane and her friends. Then Clint and Natasha didn't really have any family...that they let anyone know about anyway. And of course Steve...Steve had no one, so they really were the closest thing to a family that he had. 

That was strange to think about. He had never really had a proper family, but he had had a best friend, and almost a girl...but...He shook his head, turning his attention back to his plate, pushing all of those thoughts out of his mind and tuning in on the conversation that was going on at the table. Bruce was playing around on his Starkpad, and Clint and Thor were talking about how football was like some kind of Asgardian sport that sounded just the slightest bit dangerous.

It was about ten minutes later when a very dead-on-his-feet scientist shuffled into the kitchen, and over to the coffee maker. The chatter in the room died down slightly, and he glanced back over his shoulder to see the brunette punching in something on the machine, then turning around to the spread of food and snatching a doughnut. Blue eyes shifted up and over to the table, whose occupants were now focused on his slouching form.

"Wha?" He questioned through a mouth full of sugary dough. 

Clint simply shook his head, and started up his conversation with Thor again. 

Natasha looked impassive, but her eyes were still on Tony, as were Steve's, though Steve was being far less open about his starring. "Do you know what time it is Stark?" The Russian inquired.

"Uhhhhh..." Tony gave a small shrug, and grabbed another doughnut before walking out of the kitchen. "Some time in the morning?"

Steve turned all the way around now, ready to pitch into the conversation, when Natasha's look turned from completely apathetic to almost motherly. 

"How could you not even know what time it is?"

The scientist shrugged once again. "Look, it doesn't really matter anyway."

Steve and Natasha shook their heads at the same time, disapproval evident, not like Tony wasn't already used to that by now.

"You should get some sleep Stark."

The brunette shook his head as he picked up a cinnamon roll doused in icing cream. "Busy. No time for sleep, barely any time for food."

The Russian sighed, and turned back to face her plate, obviously having enough of the mechanic for one morning. Steve's eyebrows knit together. "Did you eat the grilled cheese I made you?"

Tony shot him a smile, brown flecked sugar sticking to his lips. "Yup, never pinned you as a housewife Steve, you clean too?"

Steve's cheeks pinked slightly in embarrassment. "There's nothing wrong with cooking and cleaning."

"Never said there was sugar." Tony's tongue flicked out across his lips before he took another large bite, his eyes not leaving Steve's.

He fought back the heat rising unbidden to his cheeks, and shifted in his seat. "Are you planning on going back down?"

Messy, grease smeared hair ruffled as the engineer nodded, too busy shoving his face full of the glazed doughnut in his hand to respond verbally. 

"What exactly are you doing Tony?" Bruce didn’t even look up as he spoke, but his facial expression had shifted slightly.

"Things Bruce. Wonderful, innovative, futuristic, Stark things."

Clint ripped a bit of bacon apart and popped it in his mouth. "Do any of those things have the potential to blow us all up?"

"You know it."

"Awesome."

"No, not awesome." Steve commented incredulously. 

"Oh come on Cap, live a little."

"I won't be living if you screw up something down in your lab Tony."

"Here comes the sass." Natasha chipped in from around her coffee mug.

The blonde's head snapped over to the Russian, his cheeks taking on a pink tint. “I-”

A bellowing laugh sounded out from beside Clint, the norse god’s cheerful guffaw. "Don't not be embarrassed dear captain! For your sass is a good asset to your character Steven."

Baby blues focused themselves on the table, the slight red tint on his cheeks spreading up to the tips of his ears. How embarrassing... "Thank you Thor."

"Alright," Tony spoke up, balancing about 5 doughnuts and the rest of the plate of bacon in one hand, and his large cup of coffee in the other. "I'll see you guys whenever."

"Tony..."

"Sorry," Tony threw back over his shoulder. "Can't hear you, we must be breaking up!"

Steve let out a tired sigh. Sometimes Tony really acted like a child, but at least he had opened up to the team...kind of. 

Sometimes he hated to get attached like he was, because he knew how it could be in combat. They worked as a team, but if worse came to worse the American norm of no man left behind would have to be thrown to the wind. The more that he thought about things like that the more twisted his gut became. He knew just as well as any other soldier how it was to lose the men -and women- that had become something of a family to you during battle, and it was a feeling that stuck with you for the rest of your life.

Now, Steve was a strong man, but even the thought of one of the team dying was quickly diminishing his appetite. All he could see were the eyes of his friends, Bucky falling, Peggy just after their first kiss, Howard as Steve picked up the lowest shield model… Clint teetering off the edge of a tall building due to an unprecedented shot, Natasha taking the brute force of the enemy to keep the rest of them safe, Thor losing Jane to only a fraction of a second of delay, Bruce being unable to shift quickly enough before getting crushed,Tony as he’s falling through the sky unable to get control of the armor... 

Steve made a short choking noise, and abruptly stood up, nearly running out of the kitchen. Four sets of confused eyes following his back as he made his hasty retreat. He slammed the door of his room shut, the door locking automatically -he would have to remember to thank JARVIS for that later- as his back pressed against the surface, and slid down. His legs were sprawled out in front of him, the balls of his hands pressing into his eyes. His head was pounding, and his breath coming a bit faster than it should have.

The letters PTS and D floated around in his mind as he forced himself to take deep breaths. It felt almost like he was having an asthma attack, though those days were long gone. Coughs forced their way up through his throat, like he was choking on air. A short whimper made its way out of his mouth, and he vaguely registered that not only had JARVIS turned up the AC in his room, but was also trying to talk to him. Really Tony was a genius, but he had plenty of time to think about that later, now the priority was calming down.

“Deep breaths Captain, your heart rate has jumped and needs to be calmed. Based on past experiences with Master Stark I have found that it may help to walk around, or splash your face with water.”

His head lolled in a shaky nod as he painstakingly made his way to his feet. His knees threatened to give out with the slightest amount of pressure, but skimming the wall with his hand, he staggered to his bedroom only stopping when his hands were braced on either side of the sink. They were his family, and he loved them...so much. He would do anything...anything to keep them safe, but that was foolish. They were at high stakes at every moment, and they could take care of themselves, but they were all he had...they grounded him in this time period.

His stomach lurched and he held back the urge to throw up, and focused on turning on the water and getting it as cold as he could before splashing it on his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, and a shiver ran up his back as the icy water hit his skin. He couldn't even think about the familiar burning feeling that was spreading across his skin, slowly engulfing him, no, he couldn’t -can’t- shouldn’t -won't. 


	3. Chapter 3

It was harder than he anticipated to exit his room for a cool down run after his little...episode. He was hyper aware as soon as he stepped through the doorway, as if someone was going to catch him for doing something he shouldn’t have done. He was being ridiculous, but he just couldn’t help it. Military instincts kicked in a he literally  _ stealthed _ through the halls. Which really wasn’t necessary considering that now he was almost out of the building and no one-

“Hey Capsicle!” Oh shit. No. Why? He’s like the most unlikely person to even be around, why did he have to choose now?

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Tony’s voice and started forward, hightailing it outside. He was halfway down the block before he even considered slowing down, but all he could think was,  _ “What the hell?” _ It was just Tony. The absolute least likely person to judge him for anything, and he had just ran away with his tail between his legs. 

Steve spent the next two hours running, jogging, and walking anywhere and everywhere. He only headed back to the tower when his body was actually starting to become fatigued, quite a feat for a supersoldier. Either way, his head was more clear, and he felt...96% more calm than he had on his way out. And then he thought about how rudely he had discarded one of his best friends because of paranoia, and winced. These people were his family, even if they didn’t fit together perfectly -because no family ever really does. 

He should probably apologise...to all of them. Though that might make them confused, but, he just felt wrong. Like he should be apologising for the fact that he was afraid of them when it came to emotions, feelings. But...he’d probably never be able to get it out, because Captain America wasn’t like Steve Rogers, he was stronger…

His feet went on autopilot, and when he came to he was in the basement, where both Tony and Bruce’s labs were located. 

He tilted his head slightly to peer through the glass door to one of the labs. There, head bent over a table, and hands moving furiously across a keyboard, was Bruce. He wasn’t sure exactly what Bruce was working on but judging by the words and signs that he understood, Dr. Banner was working on some kind of medicine.

“Are you going to come in Steve, or just watch me through the door?”

The back of his neck heated up as he sheepishly opened the door and took a step into the lab. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, I’d just rather you didn’t stare at me from outside my lab, but by all means you are free to continue inside.”

“Um, okay.”

He shifted a bit, then when he deduced that Bruce was serious, shuffled over to a metal stool, and sat.

“So, why are you really here Steve, because I’m fairly sure it wasn’t to watch my progress.”

“Well, you’re busy so I didn’t really want to disturb you.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like I was actually getting anything done with your eyes burning holes in the back of my head.”

He pulled at his fingers, eyes dropping to his lap. “Sorry.”

“Just talk Steven.”

He never failed to be surprised by not only the scientists straightforwardness, but also his individual brand of sarcasm and sass. It just seemed strange for someone who's usually quiet, calm, and generally content to be so, interesting to be around?

“I just...I feel bad.”

Bruces eyebrows raised slightly as the doctor’s brown eyes focused on him -at least for the moment. “And?”

“Well, I...I’ve been rude, to all of you…”

“...you mean this morning? No. You know we really don’t care.”

“I...I know I just...I feel like I should be apologising.”

“For what Steve? You haven’t done anything.”

“But…”

“You know what? I obviously don’t understand something, and I’m not that great at feelings, so why don’t you look for someone else to talk to.”

He tried not to let that sting. He knew that Bruce hadn’t meant it to be disrespectful or hurtful, but the sentence kind of bit into him, like the scientist didn’t have time for him. (Which, being perfectly honest, he probably didn’t.) 

“Yeah, okay. Sorry I bothered you.”

Bruce waved him off as he made his way out of the lab, the tapping of keys immediately following his departure. So, maybe not the best person to go to if he wants some advice. Despite the fact that he seems like he would be a listener, Bruce seems to get uncomfortable listening to others -feelings primarily. And despite the fact that he didn’t really want to talk about what he was going through, and didn’t know how to say it without revealing too much, he found himself in Natasha’s room. Within five minutes they had fallen into the comfortable company of one another.

Despite Natasha’s cold outside she was actually quite warm, and they were fairly close when it came to relationships. Strictly platonic though. However, he did have to admit that she was a good kisser…He mentally gave himself a silent shake.  _ Anyhow _ , they were probably situated in a way that suggested otherwise. Laying on her plush bed with his head in her lap as she scrolled through some feed on her computer with one hand, and pet his hair with the other.

They didn’t talk, just laid in companionable silence for a few hours, but it was exactly what he needed. A way not to have to say anything, but to be consoled over that thing at the same time. 

“Hey Nat I- Ohhh-kay...It’s um, time for dinner...’k.” 

Natasha looked up indifferently from her computer. “Alright we’ll be in in a minute Clint.”

The archer stood there for a few more seconds, then acceptingly shrugged his shoulders. “‘K, but you might wanna hurry, it’s Italian night so first come first serve.”

Natasha was already scrolling through her feed again, and waved Clint away. Once he was out of the room she closed the computer and put it to her side.

“So, Steve…Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“Yes.” His mouth opened and closed silently for a moment. “No. I…” He shook his head against her thighs, hair shifting in waves and falling over his eyes. She gently pushed his hair away then leaned down to press a small kiss to his temple. 

She shot him a gentle smile. “Okay, let’s go get dinner then, before Clint eats everything.” 

He slowly maneuvered himself into a sitting position, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his hands coming up to rub at his eyes. By the time he had opened them again Natasha was patiently waiting at the doorway. Sometimes it was just a tad creepy how she could move like that with no indication of ever actually having moved at all.

By the time that they got in the kitchen he was completely starving, and made a beeline for the food that Clint was currently piling in massive amounts of on his too small plate. It kind of turned into a bit of competitive thing. He doesn’t really know when that started, but he knows that every time they get a large dinner it’s him against Clint on who can fill up their plates more (and consequently eat more). Usually he wins, which is expected because -super soldier metabolism. But Clint still tries. Through when Tony comes up for dinner he’s a force to be reckoned with, the mechanic was able to eat as much as Steve, and sometimes even more.

And tonight, Tony came upstairs. It was probably safe to say that the others would end up going to the fridge for most of their meals tonight, as the more food there was the less there was once the three of them were through with it. Now, sometimes he felt really bad about that, but the others didn’t really seem to mind, and Thor really egged them on.

Tony bumped up against him with his shoulder in a playful sort of shove, and shot him that trademark smirk that was saying, _ “You know you’re going to lose.”  _ He just returned the smirk with a smile, accepting the challenge. And challenge it was. By the end of dinner both men were slouched in their chairs, stomachs a bit overfull, and smiling like idiots. No one had actually won -because they really hadn’t bothered to keep tabs this time, they just ate- and as soon as they made eye contact both burst out in, slightly painful, laughter.

Maybe that was a little weird, but it didn’t feel like it. Tony’s eyes were crinkled at the sides, and he had his arms wrapped around his middle laughing so hard that his face had a slight pink tint to it. No, it didn’t feel like it. This, felt good. Not the overfull stomach, but the smiling and laughing. That was good.

Tony didn’t genuinely laugh a lot, or smile either. It was rare due to his tendency to keep to himself despite what the tabloids might catch. Tony was a... “personal” person, but sometimes Steve broke that barrier, and it was great. If you had told Steve a year ago that he would hold Tony in such high regards he would have -politely- laughed in your face, figuratively. Heck, if you had told Steve that he would have even thought of the man as a friend he would have given you a funny look.

But now, looking over at him. He would never believe the tabloids again. The man behind the both business suits, faceplate raised, was amazing despite the thick walls closing him off from the rest of the team. Thick and reinforced, much like the ones that Steve found himself slouched against on the roughest of nights. To think that the man laughing with him now was constantly bearing the weight of heavy concrete blocks pained him, he cared about Tony, considered him family, and he wanted Tony to  _ feel _ like family. 

But, this moment would have to be enough for now. That warm homey feeling. One step at a time, bringing all of them together. It was dangerous, emotionally, physically, but it was something that they all needed.


	4. Chapter 4

He bolted up to a sitting position, shoulders heaving. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he was bent over slightly at his core, his stomach threatening to let loose it’s contents over his bed. Everything was too hot, and too cold. He couldn’t stop shaking, and he couldn’t even move to pull the sheets around himself. His breaths came in short pants, tears streaking his cheeks, and sweat making his shirt cling to his chest, which was giving him this feeling of  claustrophobia, only making everything worse.

He let out forceful, coughing sobs. His chest tight and his core straining. Everything hurt, everything was overwhelming, nothing would stop. JARVIS was too loud. He couldn’t even make out the words through the fog that had clouded his mind and stuffed his ears with cotton balls, but the lights flicked on, and that burned very badly. Even with his eyes closed his body gave a sharp jerk at the sudden light, and he squeezed his eyes even tighter.

He just barely registered the word ‘help’, and wondered when he gained the ability to speak again before remembering that he didn’t have a british accent. What was wrong with him? He could hardly remember but bits and pieces of the dream now, but he couldn’t calm down. It was like his mind was disconnected. There was this small functioning bit that kept him somewhat aware and able to wonder just what was happening, while the rest screamed at his body that there was reason to panic. The feeling forcing the still functioning portion of his brain to succumb to its own brand of panic. And now he just felt helpless, drowning in a pain, that was completely fabricated by himself. What a joke.

His body moved in sharp jerking motions, and it took him a few seconds to figure out that his body was not doing that on its own, but rather, was being aggressively shaken by someone else. Someone else who apparently had little respect for personal space, because now they were actually on Steve’s bed, and their face was far too close judging by the soft puffs of warm air against his face. The blonde blinked a few times before his eyes actually came into focus, tears spilling down his cheeks.

“-eve! Steve! Hello? You in there? Come on, look at me. Steve!”

He took in a deep breath and tried to zone in on the familiar voice. His eyes stung not only from the tears, but also from being closed so tightly for so long. Once his vision cleared enough he found himself staring into electric blue eyes. And figures the man was too close, he really didn’t care if it was your space or not, it wasn’t going to be personal with Tony Stark around...well, at least for Steve it was like that. 

Okay, good, better, focus on Tony. That...that’s not so panicky...not so…

“Steve!”

Steve let out a garbled noise that was originally meant to be a, “Yes”, but turned into more of a pained confirmation that he had acknowledged the other's presence.

“Okay, thank God. I thought you had been magicked into some kind of zombie or something and was about to get ready to find that asgardian sonavah bitch to put you back.”

Steve tried his best to raise an eyebrow, he really did, but even that small task seemed to be too much to handle. Every bit of him was just a tired, pitiful mess. And, oh, he hated it.

Tony didn’t seem to know, or care, what was going on. He hadn’t even stopped talking, spitting out words like rapid fire to fill in the empty spaces. He wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, and was quite clearly uncomfortable with it, but the fact that he was still sitting on steve’s bed, jabbering on about God-knows-what, showed that he cared more than consoling could.

Rough hands ran over his skin nervously. Tony was making descriptive movements, and when his hands weren’t waving through the air they were bound together, twisting and turning around each other. The engineer still hadn’t moved from his, personal-space-what-personal-space spot in front of Steve, and callused fingers brushed Steve’s skin with each pull.

It should have been uncomfortable. Not just the brushing of rough skin over his own, but the close proximity, the heat, the constant noise. But it wasn’t. If anything, it was actually making the situation better. His hearing had cleared up, and the river of tears had dulled down to itchy eyes and a runny nose.

Tony’s franticness was actually the catalyst to his calming abilities. Which sounded strange, and shouldn’t have really been something that worked the way that it did, but...it was Tony. It was so purely Tony to talk like he was the only one in the room, his mind going a mile a minute and his mouth trying to keep up, just to fill the empty space. And for whatever reason Tony just calmed him. The presence of him lent Steve comfort, and maybe that was weird, and normal people didn’t feel that way about their friends did they?

Not that it really mattered. Steve was never really one to go with the flow, but a little voice in the back of his head was trying to say something that he missed completely in between trying to pull himself together, and figuring out whatever the heck Tony was saying.

“Tony?”

“And it’s just that it’s highly unlikely that the molecular structure would even be stable, and it’s not just that I don’t like that ionic compound no matter what Bruce says, it just won’t work--”

“--Tony what are--”

“I mean, everyone knows that oxygen can’t bond to oxygen. Okay that’s a lie, it can, but it’s extremely explosive. Not that I don’t like explosive things, I’d just rather not experience that explosion that close to my skin.”

“--Tony can you ple--”

“And then they thought that perhaps if we were to use hydrogen peroxide--”

He butted in, having heard the tail end of a similar conversation just a few days before. “But that dissolves blood and if it were to be forced into your bloodstream it could potentially kill you.”

“--kill you.” The brunette blinked a couple of times. “Hey.”

“Are you okay Tony?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Steve gave a watery laugh. “I’m- I’m okay now, but you...were you asleep when JARVIS called you in?”

The brunette gave a shrug, his eyes rolling up to the side in indifference. Tony almost never slept, as was common knowledge. But Tony had actually been sleeping, and Steve was responsible for waking him up (well really JARVIS was, but that was a literal detail which held less of a place in the situation considering that he only woke up Tony because of Steve). Steve, with his issues, had woken the sleep denied when he had actually gotten to sleep.

“Don’t worry about it. Wasn’t sleeping well anyway, and neither were you. So, I think I’d rather be in here than having a hard time sleeping myself.”

Steve made to argue, but Tony cut him off.

“--Don’t even start Cap. I don’t get forced to do things. I do things that I want to do, so, I’m hungry let go get food.”

“Okay Tony. Let’s get some food.”

Tony slid off the side of the bed, rather gracefully considering the large dark circles hanging from the bottoms of his eyes. Blue eyes glittered as the man threw a look over his shoulder.

“...Will you make me pancakes?”

There was no point in trying to hold back the smile that hurt his mouth with it’s spread. “Yes Tony, I’ll make you pancakes.”


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a long time since Steve had had a family. It might sound strange, and possibly even unfair, but he wasn’t the only one. He was sitting in a room full of people who haven’t had a family in a long time. Phenomenal people that really deserved to be loved, but he’s expressed that before. 

It wasn’t exactly what someone would describe as perfect, but then again, what families ever are? Looking around the room, he really couldn’t imagine anywhere else that he would want to be... he had thought that before. Once, when he was sitting around an old wood table--

Small portions of filling, and traditional foods littered the rough surface. Foods that he hadn’t seen for the longest time -or ever really. Some dishes were steaming hot, filled to the brim of the small containers. Vegetables steamed to their most vibrant colours, and meat so tender that it looked like it was already falling apart on its plate.

His mouth was watering, but he knew that he had to be careful. Yes, this was a treat. A great treat, with foods that weren’t easy to acquire. At the same time, he knew that eating too much of any of those foods could make him sick. His stomach was used to small portions of bland foods, both of which the meal provided was not.

His eyes shifted from the food to the amount of chairs, to the few people lounging around the room. He took in a big breath, if just to remind himself that he was still breathing. 

The room was swallowed by brown. Everything from the table to his own clothes, shrouded in the muddy colour.  However, it did little to dull the life, accenting both rich brown, and dark blue eyes.

“I’m just saying Margaret-”

“You’re just saying will turn into choking if you continue to call me that.”

“--that the design could have been better. Even soldier boy knows that.”

“It doesn't take much to know, ‘specially since the first time you tried it it went right from your hands to the ground.”

“I wasn’t expecting-”

“You acted like it had offended you personally.”

“For all we know, it had.” Rosy red lips tilted up at the corner, mirroring the smile of paler and dryer lips, brown eyes sparkling teasingly.

“Right. Next time you need technically advanced weaponry don't come to me, because I’m not helping.”

“But you’ll continue to provide for the military?”

“What choice do I-”

“Then you’ll be helping.”

“In case the uniforms aren’t enough, here’s to a small reminder that we are -in fact- both members of “the military”.”

“Come on now.” He pitched in. “It’s hardly fair, ganging up on him like that.”

“I agree to disagree.”

“Just when someone comes to your aid Stark.”

“I wouldn’t be a Stark if I didn’t Margaret.”

“Why don’t you just call her the name she wants to be called? Not like it’s hurting anyone St-”

“Because, Barns, I happen to like the name Margaret. It’s a strong female name to go along with our strong female.”

“From you I’m not quite sure if that’s a compliment.”

“That’s entirely up to you Miss Carter.”

Steve’s mouth twitched slightly. He wanted to be reprimanding, break apart their childish teasing because this was war, and the table was empty. At the same time, he wanted nothing more than to join them. Anything to pull his stomach off of the floor, and the constricts away from his lungs. He was tough, but it still hurt to think about all the families back home with an empty seat at their table that wouldn’t be filling back up.

“I’m surprised you didn’t snap at the “our” strong female, thing.”

“Hardly worth it. Everything here is Stark’s anyway. Wouldn’t want to bruise that bursting ego.”

“Haha. Sure, tease now, but you’ll regret it once I’ve finished the arc reactor.”

That peaked his interest. “You said that that would be an energy source Howard.”

“Theoretically, yes. But, I’m not quite sure how well it will work, or how much power it’ll have behind it quite yet. For all we know, as soon as I activate it the whole country’ll get blown away.”

“Please don’t joke about that.”

“Loosen up a bit Rogers. Have a drink, if just for the comfort. It’s thanksgiving for God's sake. Might as well just pretend.”

He sucked in a deep breath, and turned his eyes to the windows. “I don’t want to pretend.”

Peggy’s eyes shifted over to him, her mouth turning up slowly into a small, sad, smile. “As you shouldn’t. But, Steven, harping on it is only going to pull you down under the worst. You’ll fall too deep without realising it, and then where will we be?”

James took a long sip of something amber coloured. “So caught up that we don’t even realize Hitler’s in Manhattan, doing the Lindy Hop on Broadway.”

He snorted, his nose punching up slightly. “What a sight that’d be.”

Howard gave his head a quick shake, blinking rapidly a few times like the disturbing image had been ingrained into his mind. “I don’t wanna see it.”

A light, bell-like, female laugh sounded out, filling up the room. “I second that. I’m sure he wouldn’t look the slightest bit appealing in those frilly outfits they wear on your big stages.”

“Is that all that bothers you?”

“I’m sure he’s a wonderful dancer.”

“How do you people think of these things?”

“The better question Howard,” He let out a short, amused, puff of air. “Is why.”

“Because you’re bored Americans, and I’ve witnessed first hand the strange ways you lot go about things when...well, in general.”

Bucky, grinning, sat back on the table, hands bracing himself on either side. “I think you mean great ways. Or maybe better?”

“Hm. I don’t believe that’s what I said.”

“That’s all I heard.”

“That’s all you ever hear Stark.” 

“On that note, how do we all feel about dinner?” All eyes turned back to the table, some of the dishes still steaming despite their prolonged stay in the open air.

“Good.”

“Great.”

“I’ve never had a thanksgiving before, but if that’s actual meat, then I’m looking forward to it.”

He turned a soft smile Peggy’s way. “We’ll make sure it’s a good one.”

“I don’t doubt you.”

 

\-- Clint nudged Tony violently with his foot, still retaining his balance from his perch on top of the chair, feet bent up underneath him on the seat. Blue eyes narrowed, and a fork jabbed at the archer’s exposed ankles.

“Would you two stop it?”

Tony’s mouth turned up in a cocky half grin, and the end of Clint’s tongue poked out of his mouth.

Clint pulled his feet out from underneath himself, and plopped down in the seat.“Ease up Nat. It’s Thanksgiving.”

“She’s Russian, Thanksgiving doesn’t apply.”

Steve blinked slowly. He felt like all of the sudden he was being pulled...back to the future? Huh.

“Then why do we have vodka?”

“Why wouldn’t we have vodka?”

“Point.”

Natasha’s eyes rolled upwards, expressing her acceptance- and annoyance -with the boys.

“When is it that this meal begins?”

Bruce’s eyes didn’t shift up from his book as he answered the Norse god. “When the food’s done. You wouldn’t want to eat undercooked turkey, god or not. That reminds me,” The scientists head tilted a bit to the side, as if to signify that he was now talking to someone else, his eyes never leaving the novel he had propped against the table. “Steve, do you remember exactly when we put the bird in the oven?”

“Um…” He cleared his throat shortly, mentally shaking himself. “We...fully defrosted it at around 4, so it’s been in for-”

Natasha stood, turning elegantly into the kitchen. “Long enough. I’ll check it.”

Within the half hour the bird was on the table. Several different, eclectic and piping hot, dishes quickly filling up the surface area of their table. Beef stroganov, gobhi aloo, pirozhki, macaroni and cheese, green beans, chicken curry, dressing, cranberries, all leading up to a fairly large Turkey. A meal fit for a large party, just for six.

He felt a heavy sense of deja vu as he tucked into his meal. Homemade, and store bought, dishes making for a filling family-like meal. The last few hours of the day spent with silly banter, and bliss shared between others as an almost foreign sense of calm and simplicity swept over the group.

Deja vu…

 


	6. Chapter 6

He woke up to the discomforting sound of a hacking cough, the sound of someone's throat being rubbed raw as their body tried to clear out their lungs. He sat up slowly, reaching up to rub the base of his palms into his eyes in an attempt to clear some of the drowsiness. He sifted slowly out of bed, and followed his ears, not bothering to change from his sleep ware of a t-shirt and boxers. He shuffled tiredly into the kitchen, the balls of his feet brushing softly against the wood floors. As he turned the corner a familiar mop of dark brown hair became visible, the normally confident figure slumped over the counter, forehead on the cold granite.

“Tony? Are you alright?”

He received a noncommittal groan in response, leading to another round of thick and heavy coughs. Tony’s body shook with the force, his arms pressing against the cold stone, gripping the edge as if in an effort to keep himself grounded against the forceful vibrations from his chest. 

He hardly thought as he filled a glass with lukewarm water, and placed it on the counter before moving efficiently to the hall and seeking out a cough syrup and a tea bag. He placed his hand gently on Tony’s back, gently sliding a dose of medicine down the counter, followed by a steaming hot cup of herbal tea. He slid the now empty water glass to the side, and gripped the man’s shoulder gently, enticing him to stand up enough to be able to swallow down the various remedies. 

The brunette seemed to vaguely register the touch, and heaved a large breath before swaying back to the heels of his feet, a tired groan pushing through his lips. His hands automatically found themselves on Tony’s back, supporting him from the expanse between his shoulders, while keeping an eye on the mug of tea as it shakily made it’s way to Tony’s lips. 

The following sip was loud and obviously hurt. He shifted slightly to the side, arm wrapping securely around the brunette’s waist, his opposite hand moving to intercept the tea cup as it made its shaky descent to the counter.

“Hey, let’s get you to bed huh?”

“I- ahsinlfkn-”

Steve shifted the other man upwards slightly, allowing the mechanic to get his feet under himself before slowly tugging him along to his room.

“Steve?” Tony’s voice was sleepy and pain laden, the kind of raspiness that came from a reddened throat. 

He let out a soft hum as he gently deposited the other onto his bed, startling slightly when his shirt threatened to go down with the mechanic.

Steve looked up, hand coming to gently pry at Tony’s tight grasp. His eyes met watery blue just as the other’s lips turned up.

“Thanks…”

God he hoped Tony was sleepy enough not to see the red rising on his cheeks.


	7. Chapter 7

The blonde shifted in his seat. "Why don't you at least take a little break?"

"That not what I'm doing now?"

"Not just for food Tony." He let out an exasperated sigh. “You only just got over that bug…”

"Well, what am I supposed to do if I'm not eating or working, got any suggestions?" Blue eyes took on a slightly mischievous sparkle, a devious eyebrow disappearing under dark fringe. Steve repressed the urge to gently brush the stray hairs to the side.

“I don’t know.” He offered honestly. “Maybe-”

"Ugh!" Clint interjected with a loud gagging noise, pushing his plate away from his spot, and towards the centre of the table. "Could you two please flirt somewhere else? You're making me sick, and I really wanted that doughnut."

Steve visibly started, head snapping to the side. “What?”

Tony let out a snort, bringing his mug up to his lips. "I don't remember setting up any rules about PDA."

He was going to get whiplash at this rate. "PD…?"

"Public Displays of Affection Steve." Banner chipped in softly, a slightly amused look on his face.

Clint scrunched up his nose slightly, pushing away from the table with colourfully socked feet. "Yeah, well I'm making some now."

The mechanic's vibrant blue eyes rolled as he finished off the dark liquid. "Yeah, well. Ever heard of, "My house. My rules"?"

"No fair Stark, we all live here!"

"Who pays for you to live here?"

"Wait," Steve interrupted, his head tilted slightly. "What do you mean, Public Displays of Affection?"

Clint gave him a look that screamed, are-you-really-that-stupid, which was mirrored around the table save for Tony, who wore a face splitting grin.

"Fuc-really?! You two flirt, like, all the time. It’s appallingly disgusting."

"We what?" Steve looked around the table, only to see Bruce nodding -although he did seem a bit sympathetic- and Natasha trying to hide a smile behind her coffee cup. Thor was blessedly absent, preparing for Jane’s birthday that evening. "We don't...I don't.."

The blonde nearly jumped out of his set when a warm hand landed between his shoulder blades. Tony was standing behind him, still wearing a playful grin, though now it was close enough that Steve could almost feel the brush of the others goatee against his ear. "Alright, alright. Leave poor 1940's, innocent, golden boy, here alone. We won't flirt anymore...much."

Poor Steve nearly fell out of his seat then. Was it just him, or had the room gotten really hot all of the sudden? His head whipped back, searching for help in the face of the man behind him, face burning. "We...we don't..."

Even Tony raised his eyebrow, making him bite back his words. That hadn't been... _ The lab was a mix of  so many different works of art, the most prominent very possibly being his creator. But...He hadn't meant...had he? All of those times sitting in the lab while working on a sketch...all those time they sparred...how comfortable he had gotten around the engineer, that didn't really mean… _

Steve let out a low groan and let his head fall to the table. His forehead hitting the wood with a hollow thunk. He wished he could just melt into the table, shoulders pressing up towards his ears.

_ I'm practically dating Tony Stark _ .

A low chuckle sounded out above him, teasing fingers leaving a heating trail along his shoulder blades as the soft tone of Natasha's voice rang out, "Honey, you are dating Tony Stark."

 


	8. Chapter 8

He had managed to slip away from the party, though he was still able to hear Thor’s jubilant voice ringing out, echoing in the halls. 

“Couldn’t take the heat Capsicle?”

He smiled as he turned the corner, leaning on the doorframe.

“It was getting a little rowdy, just figured I’d get a little air.”

Tony’s eyes shifted up from his computer screen, blue shining luminously in the dark.

“Well I think you might’ve come to the wrong place considering that we’re in the basement.”

He shrugged, making his way to the couch at the end of Tony’s desk.

“I like it better down here anyway.”

The smaller man pushed away from his desk in a practiced spin, gliding swiftly until his feet bumped softly into Steve’s own.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

His smile slowly faded away, eyes dropping towards his feet.

“What’s up Steve?” There was a twinge of concern there. “My eyes are up here.”

He pushed a halfhearted smile as his eyes shifted back up. “I just….”

His words dried out as he took in Tony’s face. It was lit gently with a genuine smile, laugh lines and crinkles at the corners of his eyes, blue sparkling with interest, care, with- And it was too much. He’d been bottling up since that morning, eyes on shuffling feet on a strange sort of walk of shame to his room. His burning face a reminder of the conversation that had just gone on hours before.

Steve lurched forward, large hands pulling sinewy muscle as close as he could, practically landing himself in Tony's lap as part of a nearly crushing embrace.

“Steve!” Tony bubbled with breathless laughter, hands scrambling at the blonde’s back.

He pulled back quickly, red up to the tips of his ears. “Sorry- I...just you...thank you.”

Dark eyebrows shot up as the mechanic made to fix his ruffled hair. “For what?”

“Everything. I don’t say it enough Tony. you gave me a home, a family...someone to keep me in check, to fight with me at the best and worst of times and I-”

“Hey.” 

A familiar callused hand slipped under his chin, tilting his head up so that the blues locked together.

“No thank you’s. That wasn’t me...not all me anyway. I just kind of, acted as a catalyst.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s you.”

Tony’s smile was all teeth, and blindingly bright. “Well…”

“For me anyway.” He shifted back before rocking forward onto his feet and leaning in so his face was only inches from Tony’s own.

Yeah, he’d been thinking about it all day. Keeping to himself, running over things, trying to...he didn’t really know, maybe just come to terms with the world and its strange new ways of throwing him for endless loopholes.

He steeled himself and cocked his lips in a sort of sideways smile as he leaned in, breath cascading across Tony’s own.  _ You can do this Steve. _

“Oh and-” He pressed in quickly, just a moment of lips coming together. “When were you planning on telling me that we were dating?”

Tony was frozen in place, eyes slightly widened. It was a good look on him, Steve noted in a sort of self-satisfactory way, before straightening up as though nothing at all had happened. And maybe he moved a bit faster than normal, but it was worth it for the look that he got when he turned his own mischievous blues back over his shoulder.

“Night Tony.”

The door began to swing closed behind him, and Steve honestly thought he was going to get away with that but-

“Not without me you don’t!”

And the stairwell was filled with whooping laughter, joy cascading through every hallway. In the room above Jane plowed into Thor’s chest with a cry of joy, fingers wrapping tightly around some sort of gadget. Clint kicked his feet up lazily into Bruce’s lap, and Natasha knowingly lifted a shot of vodka skyward.

As his and Tony’s lips meet for what must have been the hundredth time that night, still perched on the spiraling steps, he thought that he couldn’t have ever asked for anything more.

 


End file.
